Dark Dreaming
by Kagemihari
Summary: Because there ought to be a fic where Kaiba is the sane, stable one, and Yami has major issues. Because 3000 or 5000, or whatever years of solitary confinement will do that to a guy. SetoxYami slash implied.


Disclaimer: I admit it, they're not mine. sigh

Warnings: weirdness, angst, language, possibly some OOC-ness

Kagi's notes: a short little SetoYami fic that was launched at my head at high velocity yesterday morning. It demanded to be written immediately in spite of needing sleep, thus, it has been. x.x Seto POV, kind of s.o.c. style. Feedback is muchly appreciated and responded to.

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**DARK DREAMING**

It's so dark. What the hell...fuck, I'm sorry...you're shaking in my arms. A nightmare?

I thought I was the haunted one. I thought you were strong. How could I have been so wrong?

You wake up screaming, reaching, calling; you sound so lost. So hopeless. You don't even recognize me at first, and it chills me to the bone.

Where did you go, love? What happened? What did you dream? So many questions in my head; what's wrong? is the one I ask.

It's dark, you say, and your voice is unsteady; just a bit. So dark and cold, you continue numbly, and no one--no one--can hear me.

I can hear you, I assure; but you don't seem to listen.

You keep talking as if I wasn't there; those awful dead-sounding words. I called and called, you say, I shouted and no one heard; I couldn't even hear myself, and all I could see was darkness. As you speak, your voice is hoarse and ragged. I know that sound too well, of one whose throat is raw with adrenaline, fear, and screaming.

Again I say, I can hear you now. You're here now, I tell you, I've got you. You're not alone anymore.

You shiver, and seem to see me at last, your eyes searching mine in a lost way that tears at my heart. Am I? you whisper. Am I truly here? Perhaps I am still trapped alone in the dark, dreaming.

I am angry now, and afraid, and I shake you roughly. No! I say sharply, no, damn it, you are not dreaming! I know my face is scowling, fierce, although dread gnaws at my gut. I search, rather desperately, for the right thing to say, something that can ground you in the now.

Don't you dare do this to me, I snarl, and I know that is not the right thing, but I can't help it. Something in your eyes makes me afraid, somehow; I'm losing you to something I don't understand. A growl of frustration escapes me, and I'm sure my grip on you is leaving bruises, but I so badly need some way to hold you here with me.

I tell you this, the obvious, more because I need to say it than I think it will do you any good to hear. You are here, I repeat, you're with me. I've got you and you're wide awake, you're safe. My voice is short, brittle, angry--and to my dismay I hear a note of panic. Fuck. At least one of us has to keep his head.

I keep talking, searching, hoping somehow my words will wipe away that terrible, haunted, _lost_ look in the depths of your eyes. You're my lover, I say, and that's still so amazing to me yet; I don't dare to think...what if I've already lost you? How the hell can you be alone, I ask reasonably, when you're the other half of me?

I know, you reply, but your gaze is still hollow and unconvinced. You tremble slightly still in my arms, as if with chill or fever, so I tighten my grip around you. I wonder, how can it feel like you are slipping through my fingers, like water or grains of sand, even as you lie solid and real against me?

I remind you firmly, you're here with me. In _our_ bed, I'm holding you, you belong to me now. I don't repeat it aloud, because I can see in your eyes that this is not the right thing either; but in my mind it goes on and on like a chant--you're mine, you're mine, you belong to me, you belong to me, you're mine. No! I yell silent defiance to the darkness. No, you cannot have him back. God _damn_ you, NO!

And still I have not found the right thing to say and your eyes are beginning to hurt me with a physical pain.

Have you forgotten everything? I demand at last. Have you dreamed the way you marched into my fucked up life and turned everything upside down? How you beat me, challenged me, fascinated me, and then made me fall in love with you? How could that be a dream?

I am no longer sure which of my thoughts are being spoken aloud...they whirl around and around in my head, a cacophony of doubt, and I hear all of them and none of them at once.

You sigh, a faint, weary sound, in response to whatever I said. At least you are still looking at me, still searching my face for...what? What are you looking for? What can I give you here? God, I hate feeling helpless.

No, I have not forgotten, you admit, but I have had many dreams, many years of dreams, and they have all seemed so real. And always, when I wake up I am alone.

Ah hell, you sound so far away. Detached, and you seem to look through me now rather than at me. I am losing you, I can see it. God...I am bleeding, somewhere inside, from a place I never knew existed as I watch you fade, losing focus. Watching you slip away from me, like blood from a gaping wound.

Do I mean so little to you then, I say finally, that I am just a dream which cannot be real? And now I too am whispering, and I hear the sound of defeat, despair.

You inhale sharply, blinking once, and my heart stops as your expression changes. God, did I say it? Did I say the right thing? _Please_.... I beg for nothing and never on my knees, but to any god or devil who hears me now, I will, if it means I am granted this one thing.

No, you answer, of course not. You mean everything to me, you say fiercely; and relief like a knife blade stabs my soul, so sharp it hurts as I see that defiant spark, that _life_ come back into your gaze. You're back, now, from wherever you had gone, the darkness lifting, losing it's hold on you again; it's truly you and not that empty, abandoned image of yourself.

And I am the one who is shaking now; goddamnit, that was too close...too close to something, I don't know what. Too near the edge of something too much like insanity. I thought I was the crazy one. I thought it was I who needed you, not the other way around.

How could I not have seen your pain? How could I not have known that you dread dreaming as much as I, that you fear that darkness too? How can I have failed to see that underneath your leather, your bravado and pride--you're just like me, with a half forgotten past that hurts you, haunts you still.

How could I not see it...you have just as many scars as me.

-owari-


End file.
